


mark the hanged man

by thinkatory



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Collars, Fans for Equality and Justice's Equality Auction, M/M, Magic, Rape/Non-con Elements, forced obedience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:49:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29943375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkatory/pseuds/thinkatory
Summary: Lascelles lingered behind him only for a moment, then his arm crept around Childermass and the blade of a knife was pressed to his throat. "I am doing you a great kindness. I will allow you to remain in Mr Norrell's service if you accept this punishment. Are we agreed?"Childermass answered without thinking. "A verbal contract made at knifepoint may be considered coerced, Mr Lascelles.""I don't care if you consent or not," answered Lascelles, and he scraped the blade with the slightest pressure along Childermass's neck in an almost thoughtful gesture. "Your opinion does not and has never mattered. You do realise that?""Hm," Childermass said simply.Lascelles doesn't maim Childermass upon being accused of thievery, and gets a bit more creative.
Relationships: John Childermass/Henry Lascelles
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	mark the hanged man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flowersforgraves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforgraves/gifts).



> This is such a hard canon to write for, but I really did my level best!
> 
> Wordcount was lower than intended but this style really winds up being a lot more sparse than I'm used to - I have no idea how Clarke wrote over a thousand pages in it, but I'm in awe of her even besides that. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!
> 
> (The first three lines italicized are from the text itself from the divergence point of Childermass's accusation of Lascelles stealing from him.)

_"What do the cards say?" said Mr Norrell to Childermass._

_Mr Norrell asked the question, but Childermass spoke his answer to Lascelles. "They say that you are a liar and a thief. They say that there is more than a message. You have been given something – an object – something of great value. It is meant for me and yet you retain it."_

_A short silence._

"As I recall, we are needed elsewhere, Mr Norrell," Lascelles said, as though Childermass had not spoken at all.

"Where?" Mr Norrell asked, bewildered. "I have explicitly asked that you warn me well in advance before – outings – "

"It will be no trouble at all," Lascelles assured Mr Norrell. "Lucas, Mr Norrell and I will be prepared in ten minutes' time. Have everything ready." He barely regarded Lucas's nod and took Mr Norrell lightly by the arm for a moment. "Come. I will explain everything amongst fairer company."

Childermass remained silent even as Mr Norrell directed a concerned question at him with a single expression, then Lascelles swept him away and he turned his face to the inevitable troubles that lay in wait outside of Hurtfew in times such as these.

There was work to do. Lascelles would have hidden the property meant for him well, and any attempt to find it would merely brand him a thief himself and give Lascelles further reason to actively push for his dismissal from Norrell's service.

The stakes were too high not to try.

Childermass moved through the home silently, his mind on the knife he knew was on Lascelles's person at all times. One did not grow to his age in the circumstances he had without some instinctive cognizance of what things a dangerous person kept in their pockets and at their belt. Quite plausibly he could claim to be taking an uncommon path to his own quarters, but the room reserved for Lascelles was only half a corridor away.

The situation gave Childermass pause, despite his vivid clarity of the risks of leaving what was his in the hands of the gentleman Lascelles. Once realised, his crime could ruin him, and the briefest twinge of servant's doubt at disobedience made him hesitate. It was impossible to deny the dangers in not knowing what would come next in the intrigues of English magic, and his own role in them.

The cards would not lead him wrong.

He entered the understated and unfashionably furnished room and only briefly considered the valise that rested beside the bed before dismissing it as worthy of his most immediate search. Lascelles was a troublingly clever man, and would not be foolish enough to do the most obvious thing.

A thorough but delicate search through the drawers and pockets turned out unlucky, and Childermass picked through the valise in a final effort to find his due. There was only one thing to conclude upon looking through the last of Lascelles's belongings – it had to be, like the ornamented knife, on Lascelles's person as well.

It was an unpleasant realisation, but Childermass was not an impatient person and found it tolerable enough to find his cards again and withdraw to his quarters. There he rested in his chair and took a moment to consider his next move. Lascelles would know Childermass had searched his things, but would find no evidence of such a thing, so it was merely a question of taking back what was his once it was within his grasp and escaping into the night.

There was no alternative, for the sake of English magic.

The cards would illuminate things. He drew them out and cast out a spread, his gaze moving across what he had laid across the small table. The Hanged Man faced him upright, the eyes of the worn illustration of the man dead but upon him still, and Childermass remained still in its judgment.

He would not soon forget this imago of his doubts.

Other cards considered him from below; the Eight of Swords took as its position a clear entreaty, as clear a message as he could expect from the cards to beg him to aid the helpless, and Childermass allowed himself the briefest frown before he chose to play the servant for one night longer.

John Childermass was not a hero. He was a man who did what needs must. Perhaps there was no discernible difference beyond one's level of hubris. He had, however, long believed he was meant for something beyond fetching and delivering for a man as single-minded as himself. It had seemed a delusion, in the worst of times, but perhaps now was the time.

For now, he mused on heroism over a glass of sherry, and silently contemplated the idea of freedom and its implications. Would any place be safe from the intrigues of dangerous men? Would any place be sufficient for his progress?

Childermass had to believe that he could better himself beyond servitude to a man even so great as Gilbert Norrell, and did for the briefest moment before his eyes fell closed and he slipped into warm and sickening darkness.

* * *

Childermass woke in a state of undress, on his stomach on finer sheets than his own, and moved in a dizzied slowness to gain his bearings only to find his wrists bound to the bed in soft rope.

Nausea crashed over him like the swirl of tides on the coast, and he tried to blink away the sluggishness that threatened to draw him back to weighty sleep. As his vision cleared, he heard the voice of Lascelles behind him.

"I'm glad you're awake. It was tiring to wait for you."

Childermass felt the haze starting to recede. "What do you mean to do?" he asked.

Lascelles lingered behind him only for a moment, then his arm crept around Childermass and the blade of a knife was pressed to his throat. "I am doing you a great kindness. I will allow you to remain in Mr Norrell's service if you accept this punishment. Are we agreed?"

Childermass answered without thinking. "A verbal contract made at knifepoint may be considered coerced, Mr Lascelles."

"I don't care if you consent or not," answered Lascelles, and he scraped the blade with the slightest pressure along Childermass's neck in an almost thoughtful gesture. "Your opinion does not and has never mattered. You do realise that?"

"Hm," Childermass said simply.

The blade tightened against his throat. "Do not dare to condescend to me."

Childermass rethought the situation. "What do you intend?"

"To put you in your place." Lascelles removed the blade from Childermass's neck and shifted back to spread Childermass's legs apart. An immediate sense of deviancy struck Childermass at his core, and he yanked back on the ropes that bound him, but they held fast, tied by tidy and detailed knots he would not have expected Lascelles to manage. Lascelles busied himself by spreading Childermass open, spreading a flush of humiliation across Childermass's face, and penetrating him with one slick finger in a slow press.

"Fight back if you like," Lascelles whispered. "I doubt you will, cowardly as you were in Faery. You are a shame to all Englishmen."

Of all the knowledge Childermass had amassed, nothing had prepared him for what he faced now. His jaw tensed as he gripped into the down pillows under him, Lascelles's two fingers now violating him as deeply as they could reach. It was difficult to determine whether surrender or a fight was the better strategy, considering that Lascelles had the upper hand in every possible way. To fight could lead to greater punishment, a knife across his skin or worse, but surrender would be such a humiliation he might not be able to bear it.

"Oh," murmured Lascelles behind him, and he pulled his fingers out. The relief was only momentary, as Lascelles pressed inside of him to sodomize him thoroughly. Childermass made an incoherent sound and his fingers tightened in the pillows, the bonds yanking tightly against his wrists.

Childermass had never considered sodomy or deviancy in any way – he was not a saint who had never had a woman, of course, but this was far beyond trysts in inns with girls who laughed into the pillows beneath him. If he had, he would not have been able to imagine the sensation of a prick pressing into him in such an agonizing slowness, its thickness and length hard inside of him. He shuddered despite himself, mortified at his reaction, but he could only restrain so much of the horror breaking through him like dreadful sunlight through the slats of a window.

Lascelles seemed satisfied with how deep he had penetrated Childermass, and began to rut against him. Childermass bit back any sound he might make, intent not to give a single thing away to the deviant.

"This is all you are," said Lascelles, his voice breathless. "A thing to be used. And I will use you."

"You are a filthy creature," said Childermass, half-muffled as his cheek pressed against the down.

Lascelles hissed, and shoved his prick deeper and harder into Childermass in a punishing gesture. "You are the filth," he snapped. "This is more than you deserve."

It had grown from an uncomfortable ache to outright pain now, and Childermass was finding it harder to pull in even breaths. Lascelles laughed from behind him, and released a groan of horrific pleasure. "Degenerate," Childermass ground out.

Lascelles's fingers went into Childermass's hair and yanked it hard. "You will learn to enjoy this," he whispered. "I will make you beg for my prick. Do you understand me?"

Childermass could only tolerate so many wounds to his pride. "I will sooner die than submit to a man like you," he said, his voice as strained and tense as the muscles across his punished body.

Lascelles grunted in a disgusting, unbecoming way, and shoved his prick so hard into Childermass that his head smashed against the headboard, and he felt Lascelles spill inside of him. Something inside of him threatened to shatter, but he remained still as Lascelles pulled back and his prick slid out from inside of Childermass. "You will not disrespect me again," said Lascelles, and the knife came into Childermass's vision. He held faith in the cards, in English magic, as he contemplated his death by slit throat in the moment; Lascelles simply cut the ropes from the bedpost and from around his wrists, and flipped him onto his back to pin him down with the knife against his neck.

"You will remain in our service," whispered Lascelles. "In every way you can imagine."

"And if I refuse?" asked Childermass.

Lascelles laughed in his face, his breath a shade from foul, and pressed his chin up with the blade. "Do you believe I would offer idle threats?"

Childermass refused to react to the knife to his throat. "You cannot do worse to me than you already have, Mr Lascelles."

"I've only begun," said Lascelles, and moved away to calmly do up his trousers and tuck his knife in its treasured spot. "You are dismissed, Mr Childermass. Your clothes are on the chair."

Childermass remained still on the bed. Lascelles looked unimpressed as they considered each other. "Go," said Lascelles, his tone cool, and Childermass silently moved from the bed to seize his clothes and dress.

Pain was a fact for the class he'd supposedly been destined to remain as part. He could tolerate it, until he found the time to rise up.

When he did rise up, Henry Lascelles would suffer.

He left the room with his head high.

* * *

Childermass could not bring himself to sleep that night, and rested in his own bed with his gaze on the ceiling above him, his thoughts on servitude.

He could well steal into the night and escape the nightmare Lascelles was attempting to house him within, but the reversed Hanged Man haunted his thoughts. Childermass stood accused by the cards, in a question of his devotion to an uncorrupted English magic, whether or not he intended to stew in his concerns as opposed to a full-blooded defense.

Childermass was not a coward. Now, especially, he did not fear death to the point of failing to commit his duty. It was a question of wasting time calculating the best move forward, when he had every reason to doubt there was little time to act. The most important thing now was to remove Lascelles from his position of strength, and the gentleman could well have tied his own noose as he had tied Childermass's wrists.

In the morning Childermass went to Mr Norrell, who waited for him in his bedroom, already dressed and prepared for the day. His look was troubled, and Childermass spoke calmly. "We have much to discuss. Might I ask that breakfast wait a moment while we speak?"

"I had expected more from you, Childermass," Mr Norrell said, his tone uncommonly forced. "I would ask you to explain yourself before we go before Mr Lascelles."

"It is Mr Lascelles I meant to speak of," said Childermass, and bared his rope-burnt wrists. "He has committed a great and hideous crime against me. I don't fault you at all for his behaviour. You could not have known the depths of his deviance."

Mr Norrell looked pale. "I had hoped it would not come to this."

Childermass inclined his head in a nod. "We have no choice."

"No," said Mr Norrell, his mouth turned in a stubborn expression. "You had every opportunity to repent for your actions."

It was hardly difficult to sort out that Lascelles had gotten to him first. "May I ask what actions to which I stand accused?"

"Your attempt to murder my – my friend will not remain unpunished." Childermass stood in shock as Norrell went on. "Mr Lascelles has convinced me that you could be of use and therefore should not be locked away with others of your kind, but I will warn you this once that another such hideous action will be met with firmer justice. This is a great mercy I extend to you only due to your diligent service over these many years."

"The truth is that he committed a vile act against me," said Childermass, "and I will not suffer further time in his presence after what he has done. We have no option for the moral path forward with that man in your ear."

Behind him, Lascelles tutted. "You are a servant, Childermass," he said. "You must serve."

Childermass turned to face a calm Lascelles, but the gentleman was hardly finished. "You will remain here until we have sorted out what we need to deal with you. You have some role in things, that has become clear, so we must let them play through, even if a low creature like you is to be involved."

"Mr Lascelles," said Mr Norrell with faint concern, "is there not some other way?"

"The man has gone mad with what he has seen in his cards," said Lascelles, "to the point of violence. Do you see any other way?"

Mr Norrell did not answer. "And if I refuse your plans for me?" asked Childermass. "If I withdraw from your service? What then?"

"Don't be foolish," said Norrell, openly flippant. "You must do your duty, Childermass. I would have expected you to know that."

His duty, now, was to survive long enough to find what had been meant for him. Then, Childermass imagined, the cards would give him a clear path forward. He could not see any argument that would sway Mr Norrell, a man who would happily assume all of those not raised into wealth were capable of vicious crimes no matter their demonstrated character over many years. It was a question of patience. It was a question of what he could endure for the sake of England.

"The gentlemen await us," said Lascelles to Mr Norrell, and Mr Norrell nodded while moving to stand. Lascelles set his gaze upon Childermass. "You will retire to your room and await our return."

"I am not in your service, Mr Lascelles," said Childermass.

"That is enough," interjected Mr Norrell, hasty but impatient at once. "Mr Lascelles, we must go. I will not go another day without a resolution to all of this."

"Of course," said Lascelles. "Ah, do not forget the payment."

Childermass watched as Mr Norrell moved to put on his jacket and pocket a small purse. "Might I plead my case when you return?" he asked Mr Norrell.

Mr Norrell remained silent, and turned to Lascelles as though searching for an answer. Lascelles turned to leave the room, and Mr Norrell looked after him before turning back to Childermass. "Come. I must bind you in your room."

It was another shock to hear. "I will not be bound down like a beast."

"I would do no such thing," said Mr Norrell, who gestured for Childermass to go forward. "It is a mere precaution against whatever magic you could muster."

Childermass silently withdrew into himself as they returned to the more ragged portion of Hurtfew that held Childermass's quarters, and the spell had wound itself around his worn wrists by the time they had arrived at his door. Mr Norrell waited for Childermass to enter, and stood in the complete stillness of silent incantation as the spell spilled over the walls and the entrance of his room. "We will return soon," said Mr Norrell, his tone difficult to discern in its tension. "There is no escape."

"I understand," said Childermass, and he watched Mr Norrell leave. As his apparent master disappeared down the corridor, he closed the door and took a seat on his bed to think, aching still from the night prior.

* * *

Within three hours' time, the door to Childermass's quarters opened to reveal an expressionless Mr Norrell and a mild-mannered Mr Lascelles still speaking as they entered the room. "You have nothing to fear. This is a temporary measure," said Lascelles to Mr Norrell.

"And if he thinks of revenge upon his release?" whispered Mr Norrell, though Childermass could hear him clearly where he sat still against his headboard.

Lascelles stopped before the bed with no regard for Childermass's presence. "I assure you I can manage him, Mr Norrell, if you will trust me."

"Come, Childermass," said Mr Norrell, uncharacteristically troubled in expression and tone. "Mr Lascelles and I have come to an agreement when it comes to your service in this household."

"I did not realize his voice rang so strongly here," said Childermass, though he rose to greet them before the bed anyway.

"Kneel," said Lascelles, and his eyes flashed like his knife's edge as Childermass looked into them. Silently, Childermass dropped to one knee and looked to Mr Norrell. His face was as easy to read as the cards: he was full of the deepest regret even now. Childermass wondered whether a demonstration of such loyalty meant anything at all when it was clearly broken in favor of the will of a stronger man.

Mr Norrell moved forward. "Lift your head," he said in curt order, and Childermass tilted his head up.

"Must I swear my loyalty to this house?" said Childermass. "Have I not proven that?"

Mr Norrell gave no answer, and removed a large metal ring from his pocket. Childermass only caught an instant's glance at it before Mr Norrell affixed it around his neck, and he felt terror grip his heart and a stab to his pride at the weakness there. A slave's collar.

"You would not send me out into the world marked a slave," said Childermass. "Do you mean to bind me here?"

"You can hide the collar," said Lascelles. "There's no need to be dramatic."

"This has no purpose but humiliation," returned Childermass.

Lascelles laughed, a truly unpleasant sound. "Shall we?" he asked Mr Norrell.

"I suppose we must test it as we would test anything," said Mr Norrell, dubious, as he looked down at Childermass. "It rules what he shall not do and not what he shall. We cannot make him do tasks, here, we can merely limit what he can do."

Lascelles seemed less interested in the theory behind the collar. "You will not rise from the floor until ordered."

Childermass felt an awful prickling such as the bitterest cold of Yorkshire, and attempted to force himself to his feet. His legs would not move, and he sat in his shame as he stared past his supposed masters. "You've done it," said Lascelles to Mr Norrell. "Clever as ever, Mr Norrell."

"Yes," said Mr Norrell, and Childermass felt the man's gaze on him even as he kept himself turned away. "Shall we release him?"

"In time," suggested Lascelles. "Perhaps he deserves to have a greater understanding of what things will be like going forward."

Childermass did look at Mr Norrell, now, and his expression was tight. "I understand," said Mr Norrell. "Free him in time for dinner, no doubt. He must eat if he is to be any good to us."

"I suppose," said Lascelles, and Childermass looked at him to find great satisfaction in his eyes. "I'm given to understand patience is among your virtues," the gentleman said directly to Childermass now. "Exercise it well."

"I will take no lessons on virtue from you, Mr Lascelles," said Childermass.

Lascelles turned his face away. "Come, Mr Norrell. We have much to do. Strange advances."

Mr Norrell said nothing as he left the room with Lascelles. Childermass knew that his legs would tire as he knelt on the floor, but Lascelles had been correct in one thing: he had lasted this long in this life, beneath Mr Norrell's auspices, because of great stores of patience.

He would find a way out from under this just as he had found his way out from poverty and the cold.

* * *

As mentioned, Mr Norrell freed him from where he knelt just before dinner, and left with a pallor of shame in his face. Childermass took time to rest his aching legs before simply taking a dinner from the kitchen to his room. No place was safe as long as Lascelles remained at Hurtfew, but the illusion that Childermass had a single place of his own was some small comfort with which he could fool himself into the slightest relaxation.

Childermass did his duties as he always had, and retired to his room. Tomorrow, he could think on magic that could aid him in escaping the collar that burnt cold around his neck. Sleep would help him accept the situation and push on in every effort to do what he must and not simply take orders like a man's slave.

The door opened as Childermass began to drift to sleep, and the sound jarred him awake. Lascelles was beside the bed within a few quick strides, the white of his nightshirt vivid despite in the dark, and said, "You will not resist."

Childermass shifted away from Lascelles as the gentleman knelt onto the bed to advance upon him. Lascelles had his hand around Childermass's throat and the knife pressed into the bed sideways beside his head. "You will not resist pleasure," said Lascelles, and pushed Childermass's nightclothes over his hips.

"What pleasure?" whispered Childermass, but Lascelles had already dabbed his fingers into the lavender-scented salve that he'd used the night before, and began to penetrate him slowly with his fingers. It was different, now, still brutal but a clear attempt to press his fingers as deeply into Childermass as he could.

It was different, now, because Childermass found his will compromised. He shuddered as Lascelles's fingers pressed hard and thoroughly into him, into places he could not have understood, and he felt his own prick begin to react. Lascelles's prick was hot and hard against Childermass's thigh already, and the gentleman laughed softly. He removed his fingers from the depth inside of Childermass, and pressed his prick against Childermass's hardening own.

Childermass broke into a shudder again. It felt pleasurable in a way he had never felt before, his prick vividly, painfully rigid as Lascelles rocked his prick against it. The heat between them was astounding, though he hated it. "Degenerate," said Lascelles softly, and Childermass groaned as he twisted his face into the pillow as best he could.

Lascelles slicked his prick silently and began to press it into Childermass, his legs spread like a maid awaiting her lover. Childermass went as rigid as his prick, but could not struggle, bound by the collar he felt itching its magic down his body. Lascelles made a shuddering groan as he pushed slowly into Childermass as deeply as he could, then took a moment to lather his hand in the salve and slip his hand around Childermass's prick.

"No," said Childermass, abrupt, but Lascelles began to rut against him, and moved his hand over Childermass's cock in a tight and thorough grip. Childermass gasped at the contact, his mind on deviant acts of mouth and tongue he had convinced young women into as a young man himself, and he groaned. Lascelles shoved into him with fierce motions, as pain broke through Childermass's punished behind at the torture all the same as the night before, with no time to truly recover.

The pleasure of Lascelles working his prick with the soft and hard grip of his hand and striking so deeply inside of him to touch upon something inside of him that sparked arousal throughout his body did not change how he truly felt. He hated Henry Lascelles.

"You will not finish," said Lascelles in a sharp whisper, and continued to rut into him with utter enjoyment written across his face. Childermass trembled at the precipice of satisfaction, and Lascelles wanted to witness every moment of this suffering.

Lascelles was close to satisfaction himself, and groaned as he rammed hard into Childermass, to the tune of terrible and sharp pain breaking through his victim. Childermass opened his mouth to speak, but Lascelles spilled into him and the hatred seeped through him just the same.

It was not over. Lascelles still gripped his prick with his slicked hand, and Childermass quivered in a mix of pain, shame, and horrible arousal. His hips jerked into the actions, until he felt tears drip down his face unbidden, and he could not resist. _You will not resist._ He heard Lascelles laugh again through his pain, then the gentleman said, "You will not resist pleasure."

The order worked instantaneously. Childermass spilled over Lascelles's hand, over his stomach, and he felt the tears still burn his eyes. "Clean yourself up," said Lascelles, and withdrew. As he left, Childermass remained silent and pressed against his bed as though still ordered not to move.

He could not do this every night. He could not rest, he could not wait. There had to be a way out.

* * *

The protective spell Childermass had cast before the collar was locked around his neck began to fade as hours passed with its grip around his throat. He only had so much time before Lascelles and Mr Norrell thought to bar him from doing magic altogether, and based on the degradation of his work he had every suspicion the collar included some level of effect to dampen his abilities only held back by what little he had cast in preparation.

Childermass found enough time to pull a book from the shelf and look busy enough that it might not come to Mr Norrell's attention that he meant to cast a spell much simpler than anything the magician had deigned to cast on his own for some time. Mr Norrell did not forget where he left things, simply because he had someone to remember where they were on his behalf, nor did he worry much about thieves. Childermass had not forgotten where his property lay, but had every concern for thieves, and perhaps Lascelles would become lazy in guarding it now that he believed he had the upper hand.

The spell took hold, and no loud exclamation came from the dining room where the two gentlemen ate, a promising thing. What Lascelles had taken was not on his person. He had relaxed his measures after all. It was a common reaction that men had upon receiving power, Childermass had found: a laziness that came from believing no one could touch them in their greatness.

Childermass moved at a brisk but not unseemly pace to the room he now knew smelled of Lascelles's cologne, a scent that made his stomach wrench until he cut its hold over him with a sharp breath. He sniffed the air instead for the scent of sulphurous heat, and could smell it cut through the smell of cologne from inside the wardrobe. He opened the wardrobe and picked carefully through pockets until he found the artifacts burning harmlessly in one of Lascelles's jackets: a message, as he had been told, and a woman's finger.

It was one small step forward. He pocketed his due, shut the wardrobe, and moved through the house to return to his quarters. The little magic he could feel within his grasp was enough to safeguard the belongings in a hidden place.

Childermass ate dinner alone, and moved to greet Mr Norrell in the library after he had emerged from the dining room.

"Yes," answered Mr Norrell, to the unspoken question of whether he could move forward to speak. Childermass stepped ahead, and Mr Norrell spoke again. "Do you come to beg forgiveness?"

"I come to ask for my freedom," said Childermass. "I will continue to serve you as loyally as I ever have. These measures are wholly unnecessary."

"So you do not mean to apologise to Mr Lascelles," said Mr Norrell, his tone souring. "Despite the crime you have committed?"

"I have committed no crime. A crime has been committed against me."

Mr Norrell's expression was stony. "I have seen evidence that you attempted to cut Mr Lascelles's throat with his own weapon, Childermass. I see no reason for you to concoct more lies."

So the hideous man had cut himself in an effort to frame him. "And if I can prove I did no such thing?"

"You mark yourself less trustworthy the more you attempt to twist the truth to the shape you like," said Mr Norrell, in true impatience. "You will not lie to me. Do you understand?"

Childermass did not dare smile. "I do."

Mr Norrell looked utterly frustrated as he turned his face away. "Have you completed all I asked you to do?"

"Yes." Childermass was in the habit of completing his work as quickly as possible, and found himself overwhelmed with time on days as light as these. "What would you have me do?"

"Read your cards," said Mr Norrell, with only slight distaste. "Tell me at once if there is anything I must know."

Childermass inclined his head in a nod and moved to his quarters. He stopped in the doorway as he found Lascelles standing in utterly casual regard of his belongings and home. "What might I do for you?" he asked the gentleman.

"Into the room, shut the door, and to your knees," said Lascelles. Childermass remained on his feet, and Lascelles looked him coolly in the face as he drew his knife. "I will ask once more," he said. "Into the room, and on your knees."

Childermass noted that his will was not compromised despite the orders of the previous night, and shut the door silently behind himself before he sank to his knees on his thin carpeting. "And what deviancy will you practice tonight, Mr Lascelles?" he asked.

"I believe you have been putting your classless thief's fingers where they do not belong," said Lascelles, and his fingers remained tight on the knife. "Where are they?"

"What can I do with what I have found without your permission?" said Childermass. "You have proven your power over me very thoroughly."

Lascelles did not seem impressed with the concession. "I will make you tell me. I will break you. You are a coward, and a weak-willed man."

"I see," said Childermass, and he took the harsh slap across his face with relative calm. "Might I state my case?"

"What case?" asked Lascelles, his tone tight. "Thievery is thievery. Little more I could expect from you."

Childermass ignored that. "Mr Norrell cannot know what you had and I now have. Do we agree upon that?"

Lascelles looked down upon him in cold fury. "Are you threatening me?"

"Merely stating the truth. If things must proceed the way you'd like them, he cannot see the letter, nor Lady Pole's finger. Am I incorrect?"

Childermass waited for Lascelles to think clearly, and the realisation dawned upon the gentleman as quickly as he had anticipated. "I doubted you were in favour of my aims for English magic under the auspices of Mr Norrell," said Lascelles. "Especially now."

"Especially since you have committed grave crimes against me?" said Childermass. "That doesn't change what must be done. Does it?"

Lascelles maintained his stare, and Childermass looked up at him in return. "Why did you steal them from me?" asked Lascelles.

Childermass shrugged. "They are safer among my belongings than among yours. It seemed the logical thing to do."

"And you chose not to speak to me before you acted," said Lascelles. His grip on the knife loosened.

"I did," said Childermass, his eyes firm on Lascelles's face. "I doubted you would agree in advance of it."

Lascelles moved forward, and placed the flat of the blade under Childermass's neck. "You mean to manipulate me," he deduced.

"You have no reason to doubt me. I have served Mr Norrell with fierce loyalty to date. Longer than you have, and with much less to gain."

"And what would you do now?" asked Lascelles. He withdrew the knife and twisted it around so he held the blade and extended the handle to Childermass. "You could kneel before me, or you could cut me down. What would you do?"

"I see no other way forward," said Childermass, and in his own way meant it. He ignored the ornamented handle before him. "What do you want from me, Mr Lascelles?"

Lascelles set the knife down on Childermass's bed in a short motion, then began to undo his trousers in an abrupt, practiced motion. Childermass stayed still as Lascelles bared his already-aroused prick and took the steps forward to seize Childermass by the hair at the back of his head to force his mouth onto his prick.

Unpleasant, but necessary. Childermass forced his eyes shut. There was no way to divorce his mind from the intrusion of Lascelles's prick into his mouth, rigid, heavy, and long enough with a sharp motion to jab him in his throat and make him gag. He did his level best to breathe, and gathered all of his calm to do what must be done.

He began to move his mouth purposely around the prick, against each motion of Lascelles pushing his head forward and the way it speared into his mouth. Lascelles groaned, and Childermass ignored his better instincts to continue his ministrations. It earned a pleasured gasp from Lascelles, whose fingers were so tight in Childermass's hair that it made his scalp ache.

It wasn't enough to soften the moment for Lascelles, though, as he seized Childermass by the shoulder and began to ram his prick into his mouth in an unbecoming fury until he spilled across Childermass's tongue. The taste was bitter and thick, but Lascelles kept his prick jammed into Childermass's mouth, forcing him to swallow it down rather than cough it up.

"I see," said Lascelles, breathless yet, and pulled back to finally relieve the pressure in Childermass's jaw. "I don't believe you," he told Childermass. "But I will give you a chance."

Childermass contemplated him from below. "I see," he echoed.

Lascelles's mouth turned in what had to be the closest the man could muster to a smile, and he did up his trousers, then left the room at a brisk pace.

Childermass had to take a moment before he could draw himself to his feet, and wiped his sleeve against his mouth. His face blazed with humiliation, but he saw no other way forward.

* * *

Childermass arrived in the library yet again as Mr Norrell sat rigidly reading in attempted academic repose. The tension was eating away at the man, and made it all the easier for Mr Lascelles to cut a malicious way forward for him without his realising it.

"Speak," said Mr Norrell, not sparing Childermass a look.

"Mr Lascelles has forced me into indecency," said Childermass. "I beg that you reconsider his presence here and within your affairs."

Mr Norrell made an impatient sound. "Childermass."

"You ordered me to only tell the truth," answered Childermass. "Do you doubt that your magic has worked?"

There was a long and terrible pause, and Mr Norrell closed his book. "You ask me to believe that Mr Lascelles has committed crimes against you, as you have said before," he prompted Childermass. "He has said the same of you."

"He does not have magic binding his answers to the truth."

Mr Norrell took that into consideration, and his next came out strained. "You could not have misled Mr Lascelles with your intentions?"

"No," said Childermass. "I have no interest in Mr Lascelles, though he takes interest in me."

"He acts in vengeance," suggested Mr Norrell. "For what you have done against him."

"Even if I had, would you excuse a violation such as I have suffered?" asked Childermass.

Mr Norrell's fingers nervously gripped the book in his lap. "And what would you have me do?"

"Reconsider your allies and your enemies." Childermass contemplated Mr Norrell. "I must leave until you have sorted out these affairs."

"Where will you go?" asked Mr Norrell quickly.

"You will see me again," said Childermass. "So long as I do not return to see Mr Lascelles." Mr Norrell did not answer, so Childermass withdrew to pack a valise with clothes, his cards, and the items he must take to London.

Mr Segundus opened his door to see Childermass behind it, and Childermass knew he saw Mr Norrell's reputation hovering behind him. He shook his head in a short motion to indicate that was not his purpose. "I come to request your aid in saving the Lady Pole," said Childermass. "Will you join me?"

A smile spread across Segundus's face. "Come in, Mr Childermass."

* * *

The cards warned him within hours of ending the enchantment of Lady Pole that Lascelles meant to pursue him. Childermass left with the briefest farewell to Mr Segundus and disappeared into the streets of London with the instinct of a poor man fleeing a debt.

The hours passed as Childermass sat in a room rented from a London innkeeper. He did not dare rest. He did not know the magic used to bind him, what fueled the hidden collar around his neck, or whether Lascelles or his agents could arrive within moments upon tracking him like a beast by its scent.

He silently clutched a knife in his hands and thought of his violation.

Night fell. Childermass cast his cards yet again, contemplating with grimness the cards that sat in front of him. The Devil and The Emperor looked upon him, between the Six of Swords and the Seven of Cups. The literal path was cleared for him by powers grander than himself; he had no choice if he wanted freedom. He went to his mirror.

The King's roads opened. Faery awaited.

* * *

The darkness of the road was a comfort, despite all the dangers of Faery. His collar had ceased to burn. From the tree a man was hanged as Childermass emerged. It became clear enough within a few strides that it was the mad magician he had once spoken to over the cards.

Childermass had no choice but to cut the man down. Vinculus was a grim image, purple and swollen, and Childermass cut the noose from around his neck in some show of respect. The marks on the dead man's skin became clear to Childermass in a moment of pure clarity, and he sank into a mild horror at the bleakness of his situation, that the most profound discovery lay in front of him, the book all true magicians had ached to read, and he might never find a way to offer it to his brothers in magic.

Cutting even a single mark written into Vinculus's flesh into his own flesh made his head spin. As Childermass lifted his head, his vision cleared and he saw Lascelles above him.

"Come," said Lascelles. "You must guide me to your Castle."

Childermass looked up at him in astonished confusion, and Lascelles sighed. "You acted the coward. I must make things right on behalf of English honour, if you will not. Come."

"Have you not studied Faery, Mr Lascelles?" said Childermass. "It is not England. It does not care for English honour."

"I know what I must," said Lascelles, impatient. "You will not argue further. To your feet."

Childermass stood and looked to Lascelles. "I must orient myself," he said. "A moment, if you will."

Lascelles tutted, fingers on his knife while Childermass considered the landscape. It was impossible to know which direction the castle lay, but that was not an answer he was prepared to give Lascelles. Childermass remained still and meant to appear thoughtful, when a man appeared on the hill.

"Who goes there?" called Childermass.

The man did not hesitate in his approach, and Lascelles took up his knife. "You will not come closer," he demanded.

"I ask only for my due," said the man, as he stopped before them. "John Childermass, you will understand that, won't you?"

Childermass looked at the man. "Do you know me?" He had a growing sense that he knew this man. "Explain yourself."

"Go on your fool's errand," the man, the magician, Childermass realised, "and leave the body to me."

"The body is mine," said Childermass, quite on instinct. "It must be treated with respect, sir."

The man seemed amused. "I appreciate that. You are free to go, John Childermass." He looked upon Lascelles, who still gripped his knife. "What do you intend, Henry Lascelles?"

Lascelles looked pale as he stepped forward. "This body is valuable. I will not have you take it."

Childermass had to suppose both good and bad lay in the fact that Lascelles had caught onto the gravity of the situation. "Let me past," suggested the man. "I will show you my intentions are good."

"No," said Childermass. "This must not come to violence. Mr Lascelles."

Lascelles turned to Childermass. "You will not speak unless spoken to."

Childermass knelt in silence, and looked up at the magician. "Why do you speak to this man like an inferior?" asked the magician to Lascelles.

"He is," said Lascelles, in an open scoff. "There is no good in his kind. Nor, perhaps, yours, if you do not understand that."

The magician barely gestured, and Childermass found himself rising to his feet, the collar drawn up his neck to become visible. "And what of this?" the magician asked Lascelles.

"An important measure," Lascelles assured him. "One I do not regret."

"I see," mused the magician. "Why?"

"He is a threat to everything I mean to achieve," said Lascelles. "And he does so in open disrespect to his betters."

The magician contemplated that, then with a fluttering sensation the tightness of the collar around Childermass's throat lessened and vanished. Lascelles moved to the magician in a fury, but within two steps his legs gave way to black feathers until his entire body fluttered into black down that disappeared into the dim light of Faery.

The magician moved past where Lascelles had stood to the body of Vinculus, and Childermass did not dare move to see what he intended for it. All he saw was a twitch from the body, a jerk of the marks along his arms, and he met the gaze of the magician.

He could not move, even as the magician approached him. It was not cowardice, nor forced obedience such as required by the collar, but some form of horrified respect and half-dawning understanding. The man licked his finger and marked Childermass's face, and everything began to fade.

Childermass blinked as everything came into focus. All had changed and nothing had changed. 

He was left with some sort of satisfaction that all was, very nearly, well.

Childermass started as Vinculus screamed and jerked some feet away. A new sense set in: there was still much to do.

It had always been up to Childermass to deliver books.e


End file.
